You Can't Spell Funeral Without Fun
by I'm Not Wearing Any Pants
Summary: This one does not contain much merriment, however.


Ben 10 belongs to its respectful owners, not me. Quantity over quality, always. Always. By the way, have you come to appreciate my dacryphilia fetish yet?

D'Void awoke from his already fitful slumber, to the horrid sounds of his eternally sobbing nightmare baby-thing, WhatsHerFace.

"Hang on, babby, Daddah's here for you!" he sobbed while rushing immediately to her hand carved ceremonial oak crib, decorated with the tears and blood of many carpenter slaves who had died from exhaustion in the process of labor. He leaned over the bars, to check upon his little cutie, who was dressed in a pink frilly onesie, with many adorable stuffed toys surrounding her body. He reached down and placed his hand upon her heaving form. "Hush now, my widdle babby-doo! I wuv you so much!" he cooed.

The thing shot out a burst of putrid vomit into his face, temporarily shocking him from his trance. He held a hand to his forehead.

"It's happening again," he moaned. "It's getting stronger this time."

Groggily, D'Void stumbled outside his citadel. His head began to clear once he inhaled the sweet, sweet high of roasted kormite fumes.

"Aah, that's a little better," he moaned. He pulled out his favorite bong, and began to toke up.

Meanwhile, the rebels had showed up, yet again.

"Bothersome pests," D'Void snarled.

"We're gonna kill you this time for sure, D'Void!" they cried, in nondescript unison.

"I seriously doubt that, unless the story has once again rendered me powerless, even with the stupid komite furnace burning in the background there," D'Void retorted.

A horrid shriek was heard. D'Void turned, as well as the entire rebel force.

"Holy fuck, what is that thing?" one of them cried in abject terror.

It was D'Void's precious offspring abomination, the twins, Renesmee III, and Eraserhead.

"DAH-DAH," Renessmee III growled. Various liquids poured from between her sagging lips, through yellowed, twisted, multiple rows of teeth. It burned smoking holes in the ground.

D'Void screamed. A pain like no other began to sear his very brain. All train of thought was lost, as an overwhelming sense of drugged, blissful stupor set it. Suddenly, he had the unbearable urge to embrace his precious cuddle-baby. He began to run to her...or...it...as it advanced towards the screaming rebels.

"Oh, baby! Daddy's here for you! Let me LOVE YOU!" yelled D'Void, as he ran while kicking up his heels, his arms wide open towards his baby.

And then that bitch Manny showed up, all gangsta, and everything. He held his gun sideways. No, he held three guns, in three of his hands, while the fourth that was a hook had a pot holder on it. Why, we may never know. Maybe he was embarrassed by it. Somebody said he looked like pirate, perhaps.

"We're gonna defeat you, D'Void! You and your fucked up legion of Sue babbies!" he yelled. He began to fire.

The many bullets entered the beast's body, but had no effect.

"Aw, shit!" Manny yelled. He dove for cover when the creature unhinged its jaws and tried to devour him whole.

"Great job, Manny, you made it mad!" Helen shouted at him from afar.

"Bitch, shut up! At least I'm trying to do something," Manny challenged.

"MY BABY!" D'Void screamed. He burst into ugly sobbing. Ugly, hysterical sobbing. Is there any other as satisfying? Ooooh, yeaaaaah. Mmmmmmmm. Aaah! Oh. Right there. Oh, yes. Mmm, yes! YES!

Oh, uh, did I put that into text? Sorry.

Every one of the expendable rebels got eaten. Somehow, Helen and Manny managed to escape. D'Void ran to his precious abomination, and held it while sobbing hysterically.

"Well, time for a funeral," D'Void sobbed through his sobs. "I shall call the preacher."

"Dah-dah, me not dead, stupid!" Renessmee III grumbled. D'Void kept on trying to shove it...her...whatever...into an undersized coffin. "This shit dumb and redundant anyway. Me outta here, losers!"

Renessmee III broke out of the tight coffin, and roared loudly.

D'Void's eyes widened. "IT'S A MIRACLE!" He immediately converted to Catholicism. He crossed himself multiple times.

Satan sneezed.

Renessmeee III spread out huge wings from what could have been her back, and ascended. She began to fly toward the scent of pure, innocent, virginal blood.

"Don't wait up, DAH-DAH," Renessmee III called.

"My...little...girl!" D'Void sobbed while futilely wiping at the streaming, bloody tears from his face. He sank to his knees.

An hour later, the preacher came in. He gave D'Void the Last Rites. He had died from eating too much radiation poisoned wedding cake. And, yes, he had shit his pants.

The End


End file.
